


Make Sure I Don't Run Away

by erinn_bedford



Category: Runaways (TV 2017)
Genre: Conversations, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Slight Canon Divergence, and how to move on from there, but if they didn't immediately start dating, they talk about the night of the dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 15:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17880569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinn_bedford/pseuds/erinn_bedford
Summary: She messed them up before they even became a them, the dumb voice in her head telling her to shut him out instead of let him in because letting him in would mean getting hurt again. And she hates giving anyone that power. There’s only so many times she can let herself get hurt by those she cares about before it starts to becomes too much.Or, Gert and Chase figure out what happens next.





	Make Sure I Don't Run Away

**Author's Note:**

> Slight canon divergence where everyone gets their own room (from the start) and relationships take a little bit longer to become established because I am a firm believer that the 'before they get together' part of a relationship is one of the best and most interesting parts, and feel we were slightly robbed.

Her hands are shaking. Which if she’s being honest is not something really new. But she’s not sure if they are shaking because of all the shit currently going on in their lives, of because she’s standing outside of Chase Stein’s room, the echo of her single knock falling into the space around her.

She should leave. Turn around and walk back to her room and her dinosaur and build herself a nest out of musty blankets and dusty pillows and pretend she did not just knock on Chase’s door. Because if she pretends hard enough then she didn’t, and if she didn’t she still has time to turn around and disappear into that safe nest of things that are not hers, and protect herself from telling him all of things she’s been planning to say since the night of the dance.

Gert’s hands are still shaking, but she has a plan now, and a dinosaur who is very willing to cuddle with her, so she drops her hands from where they are waiting at the door and spins on her heel, because she did not knock, and he is not going to come to the door, and she is going to be home free in just a few steps-

“Gert?”

Of course he would open the door. Of course she actually knocked. Because Gert from 5 minutes ago had a plan that ended with her knocking on his door and finally talking about this, about whatever happened and how it was driving her out of her mind, and typically she is very good at her plans. She thinks them over and calculates them and the consequences, and Gert from 10 minutes ago saw knocking as a good plan.

Current Gert is suddenly very upset at Gert from 10 minutes ago, and her stupid positivity and optimism.

She turns, only slightly, enough that she can spot him in her peripheral which is where she wants him to stay. Any more of him would send her already overburdened brain into overdrive.

“Sorry! I was just going to ask if you possibly had an extra pillow for Old Lace. But I remembered I saw one hiding beneath my bed, so I’ll be on my way. Night!” She waves at him over her shoulder, and then turns back toward the dark hallway, the one that will lead her to her room in under a minute if she speed walks.

“Gert,” he says her name again, this time more a sigh than a question, all too similar to the way he said her name when her hands found the buckle of his belt, and her entire body heats up ten thousand degrees, and she does not need this right now. Gert from 10 minutes ago did not factor this into the plan.

She turns to him, slowly, because walking away from him after he said her name like that would probably leave her with too many questions later. She sees him in her peripheral again but keeps turning, because once she’s started she can’t stop. It’s like when she kissed him. It’s like the small crack in the dam that shatters after weeks of rain (or in her case, 6 years of stupid feelings and stupid thoughts and a stupid heart that just would not quit him), and floods an entire city

He’s wearing that shirt with the chopped up sleeves, which give his arms way too much credit, and a pair of sweats that she’s never seen before, and he’s looking at her with that kicked puppy look that he used to use when they were kids. That look that means he’s upset, but he doesn’t know what to say. That look that means he wants to talk to her, but he’s afraid to mess it up.

She hates that she knows that look.

“Hi.” She says, curling her arms around herself, hiding herself from whatever is going to come next.

She messed them up before they even became a them, the dumb voice in her head telling her to shut him out instead of let him in because letting him in would mean getting hurt again. And she hates giving anyone that power. There’s only so many times she can let herself get hurt by those she cares about before it starts to becomes too much.

He chews on the bottom of his lip and it does nothing to calm the fire building in her stomach.

“I have an extra pillow. Do you want to come in and see if it works?”

It’s a simple question. A lie she can see right through. A lie to answer her lie, and for some reason it makes her smile.

“Sure.” She brushes past him into his room like she has a plan, like she is in control, but then she sees his bed and completely stops short.

Which results in his running straight into her, both of them stumbling until he steadies himself with his hands on her hips, and Gert has decided handling this is never going to happen.

It’s just a bed. They didn’t need a bed when they had sex a few weeks ago, so the sight of the bed should not be causing her cheeks to heat up, but they are. His hands, large and warm on her hips, are not helping.

She steps out of his reach, and picks the closest corner of the bed to balance herself on. Chase is still standing where he bumped into her, staring at the space between them.

It’s awkward.

She hates it.

She hates that all of this is because of stupid kiss and teenage hormones and the end of the world.

“So,” Gert swings her legs and looks anywhere but at Chase. Because he’s crossed his arms now, and those sleeves are a danger to womankind. And mankind. And all of human kind if she’s being honest. “About that pillow?”

Chase laughs, and for a second, the tension in the room dissipates, and maybe just maybe, Gert thinks the whole having sex and then not really talking about the sex thing didn’t ruin this, didn’t ruin them completely. But then he finally turns his eyes on her, and her chest closes up, and all she can think about are his lips and his hands, and ‘one time thing’, and her mind is racing way to fast again.

“I don’t think you came here to find a pillow for Old Lace.” He takes a cautionary step forward, and when she doesn’t retreat he continues until he slips onto the bed next to her, not close enough to touch, but definitely close enough for her to feel his warmth. “Mainly because I’ve seen your room and I’m pretty sure you have already commandeered all of the free pillows.”

“Old Lace likes to be comfortable.” She says in defense, ready for quick come backs and verbal sparring, anything other than actually talking about what she wants to talk to him about. Anything other than the fact that she lied and really really wants to kiss him again.

And anything would be better than what they have been doing, which is mainly ignoring each other, or Gert staring at him long enough without knowing what to say that Molly has to punch her arm.

She wants to go back to them. To teasing quips and Chase’s defenses, and annoyed eye rolling, and casual hand touching, and conversations with just their eyes.

But that’s gone now because of something as silly as sex, that she definitely did not regret, and she wants them back. She wants him back. Chase Stein, dumb lacrosse star by day, secret engineering genius by night.

“Think she got that from you.” He nudges her shoulder and she she has to physically stop herself from jumping at the contact.

“I mean, technically, my parents made both of us, so maybe it runs in the family.”

It’s an accident, bringing up her parents but now she’s thinking about Dale and Stacey, and their homemade bran bars and how apparently they are also serial killers, and how she’s 16 and dealing with her feelings about a boy should be one of her biggest problems at the moment but it is so far from the truth.

“Not that I’m saying my parents reproduced a dinosaur, or that I am part dinosaur. Oh my god, am I part dinosaur? Is that why I’m connected with Old Lace?” She’s rambling. She knows she’s rambling, but maybe being part dinosaur would be easier than actually talking to Chase.

His hand drops to her knee, and her brain pushes all of it’s power to that single spot of contact.

“Gert.” He says her name again, like it’s half way between a prayer and sigh, and she hates it, because it makes her feel things she has been trying very hard to not feel. They are on the run, and the world is probably ending, and her parents are horrible people, and having feelings for Chase, or giving into her feelings for Chase, or doing just about anything with Chase just adds another level of shit to their new ever growing pile.

She doesn’t mean to flinch. She’s been thinking too much and her brain feels raw and exposed, and the way he says her name makes her think of dimmed lights and shuddered breathes and desperate hands.

His hand retracts, and he scoots over a few inches, and it’s incredibly thoughtful and perceptive of him, but it’s not what she wants.

“No, wait.” She grabs his hand, and all of the past tense Gert’s are cheering while present Gert is sort of trying not to throw up.

“It’s just,” she takes a deep breath and turns toward him, “We had sex.”

Chase’s eye brows almost disappear into his hair line, but he doesn’t say anything. Just watches her with his stupidly beautiful eyes, and runs his thumb over her knuckles in a way that is almost disarmingly comforting.

“And I don’t want that to make it awkward between us. But it has. And I lied. And I’ve been off my meds since we ran away, so everything it’s just a little bit too loud right now. And I thought it would be a good idea to talk about it. Because I couldn’t sleep. Because I kept thinking about your hands.” She tries to swallow the last part before it leaves her mouth but its too late.

But Chase doesn’t retreat. His thumb still runs over her knuckles and he give her those soft, soft eyes that make her insides turn to goo.

“What do you want?”

The words cut into her racing thoughts like a shot. In all her made up scenarios, he never asked that. She was expecting a quip about lacrosse or him to just shrug it off and tell her more about the fistagons. She wanted to lay out her thoughts and move on, leap over the hedge of ‘talk it out after the whole sleeping together thing’ so things can be smoothed out and get back to worrying about things like murder parents and how to dumpster dive.

“What?” She asks, because it’s the only word she can currently come up with.

Chase shrugs. “You said you don’t want it to be awkward between us. So what is it that you want?”

She’s searching his eyes because she knows what she wants, but she doesn’t know if she can handle it right now. Doesn’t know what he wants, what he’s feeling.

“I want to be friends.” She says, and she instantly feels like she’s sabotaging herself again, but she doesn’t know where he stands, and doesn’t want to make the awkward reappear because she can’t get her heart under control.

Something flashes in Chase’s eyes too fast for her to catch, and then she’s opening her big mouth before she can stop herself.

“What do you want?” She realizes she sort of sounds like a petulant child, but she doesn’t care. they’ve made it this far, and she’s the only one who’s really been talking.

Chase sighs and drops her hand so he can push his hair back, silently scooting and extra inch away from her again.

“I want to be friends too. So much. I like being your friend. It’s just,” he’s staring at his hands instead of her, and she can almost physically see his brain working on the right words to say. “Every time I look at you, or think about you, I just see you in the slip dress, which I’m pretty sure is haunting my dreams, and I realized I’m basically objectifying you which is wrong of me, and I need to work that out. Because it’s not fair to you. And it makes me feel like an asshole. I don’t want to be avoiding you, and I don’t want this to be awkward, but god Gert, that dress.”

She doesn’t mean to, but she breaks out into a smile, because he’s been thinking about her. But more than that, he’s been listening to her rants and speeches and her ideas, and that might even be better than anything else.

“That’s okay,” she says, probably too loud and too eager, her movement bringing her closer to him. “Because you’re aware of it. And actively trying to fix it. And totally not being an asshole at all. And if it makes you feel any better, sometimes I think about you with your shirt off. Have you seen your abs? I don’t think I understand how they are humanly possible.”

He’s smiling now, which is good. Gert likes it when he smiles. His entire face brightens, and he gets even more attractive somehow.

“So friends,” he says, tucking a loose piece of her hair behind her ear. “Who sometimes think about each other in potnetially compromising ways.”

“And who know each other’s O faces.”

She immediately wants to punch herself in the mouth, and squeezes her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to see his reaction. But she can feel his hand resting at the base of her neck, and hers is resting on his knee, and they literally just agreed to be friends but all she can think about is kissing him.

Gert slowly opens her eyes and he’s staring right at her, a mix between kicked puppy and hopeful.

They are close. Close as they have been since the dance.

Close enough that if she angles her head just slightly, they would be with in kissing distance.

Chase glances at her lips, and then then his eyes dip to her collar before scanning their way back to to her eyes.

She licks her lips.

His mouth is soft and solid against hers, and he wraps his free hand around her waist, and then suddenly they are vertical. They’ve done this once, rushed and hurried in the back room of the dance venue without a lock on the door, but she’s memorized the way his hands follows the line of her spine, and how he kisses her with feeling, with purpose, like this is something they’ve been leading up to for eternities.

She pulls back when his hand tangles with the bottom of her sweater. She’s breathless and feels like she might be on fire. Chase’s eyes are wide and his cheeks are pink, and she wants to kiss him forever.

But she can’t.

“This okay?” He asks, his hand frozen at the edge of her shirt, not moving until she gives the okay. And he’s so good. Respectful and adoring, and willing to do what she wants, and she can’t do this.

Not when they are on the run and tomorrow isn’t guaranteed and their parents may be in a murderous cult, and she hasn’t had a proper shower in way too long, and she has to be worried about surviving, about hiding, about Molly, about her dinosaur, about her friends.

She can’t add possibly dating Chase Stein into the mix. No matter how much she wants too. No matter how much her heart aches when she thinks of leaving when she knows where his hands could be in the next few minutes. When she knows she could just say yes, things are great and go back to kissing him.

For once in her life, she wants to do what her heart tells her, not her mind. But for possibly the first time in her life, doing that could be catastrophic. And they’ve had enough catastrophe for a life time.

“I don’t think I can handle anything more than friends at the current moment.” She says, more of a whisper than words, but he’s close enough that he hears her.

Something flashes over his face, but it’s gone in an instant, and his hand disappears from her waist and lightly dances along her cheek.

“I’m good with friends.”

Something tugs at her heart, and she presses her forehead against his. “What about friends who on occasion kiss each other because they need to get their sexual frustration out of their systems.”

“Whatever definition of friends you are comfortable with.” He smiles at her, and catches her mouth again, softer this time, without the tension from before. “Dating is so heteronormative anyway.”

“Do you even know what that means?” She asks, laughing.

“Not really. But you sounded really passionate about it when you said it.” Chase shakes his head, but he’s smiling, and she’s smiling, and for a few minutes, her brain isn’t screaming about what’s wrong with the world.

“I can explain it to you.” She promises, but Gert’s pushing herself off the bed and away from him. “Another time. I have a dinosaur in desperate need of a pillow”

Chase’s hand looks like it’s going to reach out to her, but he drops it back to his side. “Wouldn’t want Old Lace to get angry with me, now would we.”

Gert shakes her head and curls her arms around herself, much like she did early in the evening, but she’s not hiding anymore. She’s cold from the sudden lack of Chase Stein around her. But he’s smiling at her. Wide and dimpled and his mouth is still slightly bruised, and his cheeks are still a little red, and she really needs to leave before she climbs back on top of him and takes back everything she said about being just friends.

“Good night, Chase.” She says instead, forcing her feet to move toward the door.

“Night, Gert.”

She loves how he says her name. Like it holds millions of possibilities and tomorrows and forevers. Like it is everything in the universe.

She’s smiling like an idiot when she slips back into her room. Old Lace raises her head in question, but Gert just pats her head before collapsing on the bed.

She’s stupid happy. Comfortable. Possibly a little bit in love.

Old Lace nudges her knee and Gert stuffs her face into her pillow, replaying the good parts of the night over and over in her head.

Her hands have stopped shaking.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first time writing for these two, so I hope I did them justice. Title comes from "Just Friends" by Morgan Saint. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://fallinfor-youreyes.tumblr.com/) if you wanna talk about how much I love these 6 messy kids and their dinosaur, or how I was so upset over 2.11 that I still haven't watched the last two episodes.


End file.
